


comfort in the unexpected

by ianmalcolms



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Feelings, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Possibly Pre-Slash, Probably ooc, can be read as platonic tho, if its shit im sorry lmao, not beta read we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-25 03:35:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20019262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ianmalcolms/pseuds/ianmalcolms
Summary: cap has a nightmare and finds thomas. jus some dudes talking abt feelings innit





	comfort in the unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic ever lmao. i figured seeing as I've spent a good 7 years of my life reading them i could write one. probably not if this is anything to go by so im sorry if it's awful 🤠🤙🏼
> 
> show belongs to the bbc

He had experienced this all before. He was sure of it. You don't just forget the terror, the pressure, and the pain that war inflicted upon you.

His army had set up camp within Button House, believing it to be far enough from civilisation that they would be safe from the hoards of axis troops that had invaded the British Isles. A miscalculation, he supposed. Not a few weeks later, they had been surrounded.

Bullets sailed through the air and wedged themselves into the brick of the house's exterior. Small fires had broken out over the grounds and were spreading rapidly. Rocks were pelted at windows and tanks flattened the earth they stood on. Stormtroopers forced their way into the house as far as they could before being gunned down by their opponent. The noise was deafening: cries of pain, shouts of both triumph and failure, the whistling of bullets, creaking floorboards as both troops stormed around the house, thunder echoed from the tanks. The Captain could do something. Should do something. But did nothing.

Holed up in what was used as a meeting room on the top floor, he sat at the desk and stared blankly at the blueprints of the house that lay in front of him. Pawns lay overturned on the blueprints, having fell over due to the vibrations of the house. Scattered along the walls were maps of the United Kingdom, Germany, and other Eastern Powers. There was also blueprints for more developed artillery and newspaper clippings that recounted the events of the week. His stick lay forgotten on the floor, long since replaced with a rifle which rested loosely in his hands. 

It was a shame, he thought, to come this far just to give up. His lips twitched into a grim smile and his eyes remained unfocused on the papers before him. The Axis powers' arrival had been somewhat expected but they had hoped it wouldn’t come so soon. They hadn’t finished their drills or completed setting up a make-do medical wing. They were in the process of importing more weaponry and men when the infiltration happened. His boys were incredibly capable but there was no denying they were heavily outnumbered and morale was dying a lot quicker than the enemy was.

Still, dying alone in this room along with the knowledge that he had sat the majority of this fight out was not how he wished to go. With a newly determined look in his sharp eyes, he gripped the rifle, stood up and stormed his way to the door. Then he stalled. His hand shot to his left breast and let his head hit the door. The room began to spin and the noises that could once wake the dead were now muffled and quiet. Sweat soaked his forehead and rested on his neck. It felt as though flames were lapping his insides and smoke was making its way up his throat. He wheezed and scrabbled to loosen the tie around his neck. The rifle slipped from his hands and clattered to the floor. Not a second later, the Captain followed it. 

— 

The Captain jerked awake and gasped for breath he didn't actually need. His eyes shone with tears and he opened and closed them repeatedly to blink them away, a few escaping. He lay rigid on top of the bed and stared blankly at the ceiling before swinging his legs off of the bed and resting his head in his palms with a groan. A nightmare then. He didn't even think he was capable of having dreams in this spectral form but considering everything that had happened within the past month, he figured it wasn't impossible. 

When the stress of living in this house got to him (no thanks to the eight other ghosts), the Captain would get Julian or Alison to switch on the TV so that he could watch his favourite war documentaries. Something told him that that wasn't such a great idea tonight.

Instead, he got up and tucked his stick under his arm, and then made his way to what was referred to by them as the common room. Chess was a great way to pass the time and playing with Robin and occasionally Julian had enhanced his skills. The house was dead silent as he strolled along the corridors, the only sound coming from the creaky floorboards. It was … spooky. Everything about Button House was. 

Reaching his destination, he noticed the door was already ajar. Curiously, he peeked his head around it and spotted a slim figure perched on the window seat overlooking the grounds. Said figure had a mop of unruly curly hair on their forehead and their knees were pulled to their chest with their head rested atop of them. A soft sigh was emitted. Thorne. The Captain sucked in a quiet breath and inched himself away from the door slowly. He really did not want to have a conversation, if that's what you would call a one-sided “poetic” argument, with him. The house seemed to have other plans for him, however, as his next step caused the floorboards to creak even louder than usual. Shit, shit, shit - 

"Is there someone there? Robin, if you're trying to scare me, it won't work this time! Or is it fair Alison? My dear, have you finally come to confess your undying love for me!"

Despite his predicament, the Captain rolled his eyes at the man’s confession for what seemed like the 1000th time this month and stood stiff, hoping Thomas would forget about the sound and go back to moping. He did not. Rather, the Captain heard soft footsteps making their way across the room. Looking around himself, he realised his only options were to run back down the corridor which seemed to grow longer every second he stood, or to just give himself up. Both options inevitably ended with him talking to Thomas.

It wasn't that he hated Thomas as much as he made it seem. It was just that sometimes (most of the time) the man was irritating, overly sensitive, cared only about himself, and was borderline obsessive. Perhaps more than borderline. Still, he was the first to greet him in the afterlife and after the shock of his death had passed, the Captain found that he was quite a good looking man and perhaps the most entertaining of the little family they had at the time. It seemed his novelty had increasingly waned every day since.

The door swung open the rest of the way and Thomas did a double take, clearly not expecting the Captain of all people. 

"Apologies, I didn't mean to disturb whatever it was you were … doing." The Captain gestured to the window seat, grunted awkwardly, and then turned on his heel to leave.

Getting over the unexpected intrusion, Thomas began to gesture wildly with his hands.   
"You should very well be sorry. That was my best poem yet. And now where is it? Not in my head that's for sure!" His voice grew louder as his annoyance got worse.

The Captain was certainly not in the mood to fight but if there was one thing Thomas was good at, it was pushing all the right buttons. He rubbed his temples and huffed before making the decision to not give in and eventually turned to walk away again. 

"Excuse me!", Thomas wailed, "Do not show your back to me! You can't ruin my poem and then just walk away!" He prodded the Captain in the back which caused him to spin angrily and grasp the taller man's finger. His brows were furrowed and there was a glint in his eyes. His mouth was curved in a dangerous smile. Thomas had the right to look fearful as he remembered just who it was he was talking to.

"Do not …", The Captain warned, before trailing off and looking at the ground again. His despair and anxiety had seeped out of him and was replaced with fury. "I'm not … just … ugh!" he stuttered and then let go of Thomas's finger and swatted it away. 

The Captain expected Thomas to start winding him up again because when did he ever take heed of warnings. Ergo, what Thomas did next stunted him.

"I'm sor-", he began, then stopped and mumbled, then settled on, "What's wrong?" 

The Captain stared at Thomas with an incredulous look on his face. His eyebrows had shot to his hairline and he regarded Thomas's face carefully for any sign of jest. There was none. The Captain's mouth formed an 'O' shape and he huffed out a laugh. Christ. This was an unusual night.

Not one to wear his heart on his sleeve, he waved Thomas away and pushed past him towards the chess table. Thomas followed at his heels. The Captain believed himself to be the strongest of their family. His point was proven when they failed to get rid of the hotel contractor. Thus, he had to keep any and all weaknesses under wraps. Especially from Thorne who seemed to thrive off of others misfortunes.

"I don't want to be intrusive. Well, maybe a little bit. I suspect your woes could make for a great poem," at this, he received a piercing glare and moved swiftly on, "If you want I could join you for a game of chess." 

The Captain finished setting up the chessboard and then looked up at Thomas. His brown eyes flitted from the Captain to the chessboard nervously. The Captain sighed and nodded to the chair in front of him. Thomas perked up at that and sat down with a hint of a smile.

The house was silent once again with the exception of the chess pieces hitting the board. At least 30 minutes had passed and the game was coming to an end. The Captain moved his rook and then sat back and stared at Thomas. He was muttering to himself and chewing on his bottom lip. The Captain gazed at his mouth before clutching at his stick, clearing his throat and averting his eyes back to the board.   
That's when he noticed his mistake.

Thomas must have noticed at the same time he did because his eyes lit up and he moved his bishop into place and then looked up at the Captain with a grin. 

"Checkmate." 

The Captain groaned in defeat and slumped back in his chair, ignoring Thomas's gloating. He couldn't believe he had lost to the git. Never once had he seen Thomas near the chessboard so how could he have beaten him. He supposed Thomas deserved more credit than what he gave him. Upon realising this, he made his decision to tell Thomas what was bothering him.

He bit his lip, threw his head back and sighed. Then he blurted out, "I had a nightmare. A flashback, more than anything." Thomas quieted down almost immediately and hands slowly made their way from in the air to the table. He stared at the Captain and then hummed for him to continue. Upon finishing, the Captain's eyes were glistening and he didn't dare lift them to meet Thomas’s. A foot nudged his knee under the table which grabbed his attention and he gave him a sad smile.

"Thank you. For telling me. You never told anyone how you … passed. So, thank you. I won't tell anyone." He reached over the table tentatively and poked the backs of the other man's hands before stroking them. The Captain stared at him in disbelief and coughed. Then he laughed and shook his head. Thomas was full of surprises.

He turned his hands over and gripped Thomas's with them, pretending he didn't hear the strangled sound he made. A sly smile made its way onto the Captain's lips as he said, "Alright, your turn. Answer me this, why are you a pompous prick all the time?" 

An undignified sound of anger slipped from Thomas which caused the Captain's smile to grow even bigger. He watched Thomas open and close his mouth comically and then when it seemed he had gotten over the initial shock of the question, he answered. 

"I don't mean to be. I just … like the attention", the Captain snorted at this because of course, he liked the attention; it was written all over his entire being. 

Thomas glared at him and then continued, "It gets lonely here. Centuries passed with no new faces. The old faces get just that, old. I know all about you lot. It gets boring. Alison and Mike are new, are in the present! They experience something new every day and aren't stuck in a rut like us. I want that." 

The wistful look on his face softened the Captain’s heart. They both knew it couldn’t happen. They were here for the foreseeable future. But the truth never got easier.

Both men felt like a weight had been lifted off of them and yet their comfort had come from such an unexpected place. They regarded each other silently and shared hopeful smiles before moving to stand up.

Not letting go of each other's hands, they walked to Thomas's room. They both stood at the threshold looking at each other, neither daring to move so as to break the moment. It was when Thomas stifled a yawn that the Captain let go of his hand, gave him a curt nod and turned to leave. Thomas gaped for a moment, unsure of what to do. He rushed forward and wrapped his arms around the Captain’s torso and let his head rest on his shoulder. 

The Captain tensed … 

And when he felt Thomas release his grip, he turned in his arms and brought him up for a proper embrace. He knew Thomas loved physical affection, craved it even, and whilst he was not overly fond of it, something had passed between the two men tonight and he found that he didn’t mind (not even a little bit).

They pulled away, their cheeks flush despite their lack of blood and Thomas butted his nose against the Captain's forehead before moving into his room again and shutting the door. The Captain stood there for a moment longer, waited for the sound of rustling sheets, and then walked in a daze back to his own chamber. 

His chest was aching but unlike last time, it felt as though there were butterflies eating at his insides rather than flames. He slept soundly at last and this time, he dreamt of the man with the mop of unruly curly hair.

**Author's Note:**

> give cap a bf challenge xxx
> 
> also dont ask how they touch the chest pieces aight. ghost magic bro


End file.
